Sunday, 23 December 2012

"We could have a wine," I said.
"It's not even ten o'clock in the morning!" protested J. We had woken late; I was barely dressed, my pyjamas a warm heap on the spare room bed. J and Z were discussing Christmas presents for their innumerable nieces and nephews.
"I was joking," I said. I hadn't even brushed my hair.
"We could though, you know," said J.
"You're a bad influence," said Z.
I said I knew that, and sat and knitted on my sock and sipped my wine while J and Z made fudge for Christmas.

I looked up hollandaise recipes and the best way to poach eggs on my iPad and poured another glass of wine.

After brunch, we visited J's parents, and discussed the merits of the cheese shop, and sat and crafted and wrapped presents over a second, then third bottle of wine.

I have more problems and pains than I can list, and compared to most of my friends, not very many blessings. But what I have is more than enough: it is plenty.